New York, the nation's metropolis

, .6

WEW YORK

THE NATION'S METROPOLIS

PETER MARCUS

Class

Copyright N^-

CfiPWJJGHT DEPOSm

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NEW YORK
THE NATION'S METROPOLIS

NEW YORK

THE NATION'S METROPOLIS

BY

PETER MARCUS

WITH AN APPRECIATION BT

J. MONROE HEWLETT

PRESIDENT OF THE ARCHITECTURAL LEAGUE
OF NEW YORK

NEW YORK

BRENTANO'S

PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 192 I, BY
BKENTANO'S

All rights reserved

THE PLIMPTON PRESS
NORWOOD -M ASS -U-S -A

APR -5 1921

■^CU611G03

CONTENTS

I. Times Square.

II. Lower Broadway.

III. Exchange Place.

IV. Looking West on Brooklyn Bridge.
V. The City Hall.

VI. Wall Street.
VII. r he Old Bridge.
VIII. The Tombs Prison.
IX. Looking West Along Peck Slip.
X. The East Pier, Brooklyn Bridge.
XI. The Municipal Building.
XII. New Tork from Fulton Ferry.
XIII. The Metropolitan Tower.
XIV. The Cathedral on the Avenue.
XV. ^ueensboro Bridge.
XVI. Fifth Avenue at Fifty-ninth Street.
XVII. Hell Gate Bridge.
XVIII. Soldiers and Sailors Monument.
XIX. The Cathedral on the Heights.

XX. The Viaduct.
XXI. Grant's Tomb.
XXII. The Battleship "Oklahoma'' on the Hudson.

XXIII. High Bridge.

XXIV. Washington Bridge.

XXV. Grand Central Station.

Ill

NEW YORK
THE CITY OF VIOLENT CONTRASTS

NEW YORK Is preeminently the City of Violent
Contrasts. Towering shafts of brick and stone
and steel, soaring traceries of cables, derricks, girders
and electric signs, smooth stretches of gray asphalt,
subway and sewer excavations, broad harbors and
stately ships, oily canals and garbage dumps, classic
columns, gilded domes, palaces and shanties, parks
and fountains, factory chimneys and gas tanks; these
are a few of the items that occur in this as in other
cities, but nowhere else are these and other manifes-
tations of beauty and ugliness, prosperity and squalor
brought into such vivid and striking relief, and of no
other city can we say with equal truth that it defies
the effort to summarize briefly its typical character-
istics. Fragments and details suggestive of widely
diff^ering phases of its life persistently force themselves
into a single picture without regard to orderly classi-
fication or proper dramatic sequence.

Appreciation of the beauty of nature as undisturbed
by man seems inherent in our race, but man in his
material progress is constantly defacing nature, con-
stantly destroying, constantly substituting forms and
arrangements dictated by utility, not by beauty, and

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shocking to our finer instincts. Then imagination
(steps in and gradually invests these new forms with
jnew meanings derived from history, logic, romance,
/ symbolism and pure poetic fancy. Some are con-
demned and discarded as unnecessary or useless,
while others at first glance equally ugly acquire a
significance and a soul. Of him who would interpret
such a theme as New York our first demand must
therefore be prophetic vision.

To the artist who seeks to penetrate the outer sur-
faces of his subject and to suggest and interpret an
activity, a creative power, a vastness of scale and a
variety of functions beyond human power to portray,
charcoal is a most, perhaps the most, inspiring medium.
It is surely the medium that most readily lends itself
to the simultaneous expression of form, mass, line and
tone.

Hopkinson Smith once said that Venice is nothing
but air and water. There all else has been so softened
and moulded and enveloped as to become part and
parcel of sea and cloud. The portrayal of this is pre-
eminently a painter's job. But New York, in addition
to being a lot of other things, is a Venice in the making,
and all the ugly paraphernalia by means of which this
making is slowly going forward, all the unlovely pro-
cesses, physical and chemical, structural and com-
mercial, must be recognized and expressed and by the
light of poetic vision be made a part of its beauty and
romance.

A painter might perhaps strive to envelope and
obscure whatever seemed objectionable in a glory of

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color. An architect might lay undue stress upon the
many examples of distinction in the work of his craft,
which are often all but details in a vast scheme. The
pictorial expression of New York requires a blending
of the view points of the painter and the architect in
which both contribute to an image of something not
yet realized, perhaps never to be fully realized, and
help in dramatizing the struggle towards that thing.

Peter Marcus is a painter not an architect, but he is
also a designer experienced in the goldsmith's craft
and there is evident in these charcoal studies a pleasure
in the delineation of the tracery of bridge cables and
trusses, derricks, scaffolding and electric signs, that in
contrast with his broad and greatly simplified expres-
sions of architectural form and detail, adds vastly to
the eloquence of his work. Furthermore, he is a native
of New York as his parents were before him, and the
slow development by which New York has climbed >^
upward has been part and parcel of his life. These
are the days of a premature development or forcing
of the artistic personality, usually expressed at some
sacrifice of the prevailing characters and sentiment of
his subject.

To my mind the most distinctive quality of these
drawings is found in the complete subjection of the
artist to the spirit of the thing represented.

Lower Manhattan from the harbor, from Brooklyn,
from across the Hudson and from the air has been
exploited to such an extent as to destroy for the native
New Yorker much of the impressiveness of this majes- /
tic panorama, but lower Manhattan as seen from

within by the man in the street has a different kind of
impressiveness and pictorially has hitherto been some-
what neglected. Five drawings are devoted to this
theme — "Lower Broadway," "Wall Street," "The
City Hall," "The Tombs," and "Exchange Place."
These five drawings as a group seem to me to represent
the culmination of the artist's achievement. They
show a simplicity and ease of method, a definite con-
ception and an admirable sureness of values and
textures. In imaginative power and sinister sug-

\ gestion, "Exchange Place" brings to mind Bochlin's

' "Isle of the Dead" and it is not like that, a creation
of the imagination but a truthful characterization of
locality. A second group of five are "The Metropoli-
tan Tower," "Times Square," "Grand Central Sta-
tion," "The Municipal Building," and "The Cathedral
on the Avenue."

As these take us further up town into wider streets

y and more extended surfaces of sky, distance and
silhouette become increasingly important in their
composition, and what we lose in concentration we
gain in tonal interest.

"The Old Bridge," "Washington Bridge," "Queens-
boro Bridge," and "The Viaduct," fall naturally
into a third group. Here we have a different mani-

^' festation of energy, the architecture of the engineer,
crisp and nervous in rendering, beautifully expressive
of structure unadorned.

If in the drawings thus far mentioned certain quali-
ties of Piranesi, Meryon and Brangwyn are brought
to mind; in "High Bridge," "The Soldiers' and

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Sailors' Monument," "Hell Gate Bridge," "Grant's
Tomb," and "The Cathedral on the Heights," there
is equally a suggestion of Whistler. Less vigorous
than the others in draughtsmanship, they are full of
the suggestion of subdued color. By reason of the
more subtle quality of their rendering, they lend them-
selves less readily to reproduction but even the re-
productions convey beautiful impressions of shadowy
foliage and quiet waters, bare, wind-swept branches
and lonely spaces.

It is safe to predict that if he continues his interest
in charcoal as a medium, Peter Marcus will gradually
and naturally acquire a more characteristic personal
manner, but it will come from ease of mastery not
from assumed eccentricity, and whatever he may
achieve in future this series of drawings will stand as
the most comprehensive and broadly discerning study
of New York in its entirety that has yet been made.

J. Monroe Hewlett

President of the

Architectural League of
New Tork

inl

NEW YORK
THE NATION'S METROPOLIS

I

TIMES SQUARE

TIMES SQUARE is at the juncture of Broadway,
Seventh Avenue and Forty-second Street. It is
the very heart of uptown Broadway. Not the down-
town Broadway of finance and of towering buildings,
but the Broadway of theatres, restaurants, gay crowds
and bright Hghts. It is bustHng, congested, whirhng. It
is in a constant state of being rebuilt and repaired. Its
sidewalks are littered with timbers, pipes, derricks and
showy women. One hears jazz music and Klaxtons. It
is the playground of the pleasure seeker, the battle-
ground of the taxis, the dream of the chorus girl on the
road, and the nightmare of the traffic cop. It is white
lights, green lights, red lights, — flashing, spinning and
winking. It is noise, crowds, motion. Sun and storm,
day and night it roars along, churning, — a whirlpool in
a mighty river. Incongruous, incessant, enormous.

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II

LOWER BROADWAY

THE changes In New York in the last hundred
years have been almost fabulous and yet the
greatest of all perhaps has been lower Broadway.
The proud steeple of Trinity Church once dominated
a scene of fashion. It is now surrounded, dwarfed,
overshadowed. Once Beaux and Belles, in Brummel-
like hats and directoire skirts, came grandly here to
worship, — and meant it. To-day, one picnics in
the church yard and eats luncheon bananas on the
graves. The enormous buildings of commerce, finance
and trade are filled to overflowing. Here is progress,
wealth and unlimited resource. It is a tremendous
hive full of golden honey. And it is doubtless very
good. But it is also good that this small church of
a bygone time, still stands undaunted, — respected
among these colossal towers; and that it still brings
from the past some of that calm strength that is of
even more lasting stuff than the masonry of the church
itself, and that through it, the spirit of Old New York
still *' carries on" in Lower Broadway.

nisD

in

EXCHANGE PLACE

RUNNING east from Broadway, just below Wall
Street, is Exchange Place. It is a narrow street
and a short, but it is not a little street. Huge build-
ings are its walls, which seem almost to meet over-
head. Straight up they tower, face to face, staring
at each other with countless eyes. Daily into these
few buildings come thousands and thousands of
people: old and young, gay and sad, financiers and
office boys, — to work. It is a good-sized town in one
street. It is a veritable canon of the city.

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IV

LOOKING WEST ON BROOKLYN BRIDGE

ONE of the "Views of New York'* most often
pictured and most often snapped by amateur
photographers is that of lower Manhattan as seen
from a distance. And yet from a painting, photo-
graph or drawing, who can feel what it is? As with
pictures of the Grand Cafion, it seems impossible to
realize the scale or to give the sense of its enormous
size. To know what it is, one must have seen it. A
picture, in this case, can only serve to refresh the
memory of the man who knows.

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V
THE CITY HALL

NOTHING better exemplifies the growth of New
York than does the City Hall, standing as it
does almost in the shadow of the Municipal Building.
In the old days when it was the principal structure on
City Hall Park, its three stories afforded ample room
in which to carry on the city's affairs. It now houses
only four offices, including that of the Mayor and that
of the Art Commission. The other city offices, and
their number is astounding, are elsewhere. But
although the city has grown beyond recognition, the
City Hall has proudly kept its place, and is honored
as is a venerable old man, a bit less active than he was
perhaps, but still the dignified head of a noble house.

I Hi

VI
WALL STREET

HERE is the force of the sea and the romance of
a fairy tale. Here immense fortunes are won
in a day and lost in less, and the hopes and savings
of years vanish in an hour. Here are bank messengers
who become millionnaires overnight and capitalists
/ who awake penniless. It is the market of the whole
country and of others. Here are corn and wheat
heaped in huge confusion, millions of bales of cotton
and barrels of oil, high-piled above the sky-scrapers.
Railroads, steamers, banks and bullion; raw gold and
ore, coal, silver and copper, mounting to the clouds
in glimmering pinnacles and smoking hills. And
through it all and around it all, pulses the restless
swing and change, the tireless tide of "the street."

And the traders! Giants and pygmies. Tumbling
over each other, swarming, pushing, struggling. Here
holding up a million head of cattle to the highest
bidder, there beating down the price of a small nation.
Here is a man beaten by a crowd for buying oil and
there is another lying dead because he sold it. And
away over there runs a little man who has succeeded
in stealing a pig and is now scurrying off with it to
safety.

This mountainous market of hopes and of nations,
of success and failure, of tragedy and comedy, of
ships, steam, mines, and the lives of men, towering
phantom-like and vast, — is Wall Street.

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VII
THE OLD BRIDGE

BROOKLYN BRIDGE was the first bridge be-
tween Manhattan and Long Island. The day
of its opening was one of great pubHc enthusiasm.
Parties were given for walking or driving across the
bridge, and that night half New York and Brooklyn
were on the house-tops to watch it illuminated by
fire-works. In those days it was called "The Bridge."
But now since the Manhattan, the Williamsburg and
the Queensboro bridges have been added to the East
River giants, it has become *'The Old Bridge,'* a name
meaning many things to those who have known it
from its beginning. Its erection was a long step
towards close relationship between New York and
the whole of Long Island.

C^si]

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/

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VIII
THE TOMBS PRISON

WHO can look at a prison without being glad
that he is not in it ? At the corner of Lafay-
ette and Franklin streets is the great gray pile that
is the Tombs. Its turrets, towers and narrow win-
dows suggest dungeon keeps and feudal castles; its
heavy gateways, — medieval strongholds. Its high
exterior wall and "Bridge of Sighs'' make one re-
member the lugubrious histories of the Doge's Palace
and of the Tour de Nesle. Those inside bear the
double burden of being imprisoned and of knowing
that close about them is all the life of the great city:
its lights, its restaurants, its countless activities and
its friends. Yes, looking at the Tombs, grim as it is,
makes one feel strangely fortunate.

[30:

IX
LOOKING WEST ALONG PECK SLIP

IF Father Knickerbocker should come over to New
York on the Fulton Ferry, as in times gone by he
used to do, when he had been visiting his respected
neighbors on Brooklyn Heights; and if he should stand
on South Street and look up Peck Slip and see it as it is
to-day — how he would stare through his horn-rimmed
spectacles and how his dear old heart would thump
under his brass-buttoned coat ! How he would pinch
himself and wonder what it all could mean! What was
that enormous shaft all white and glowing in the after-
noon, rising eight hundred feet or eight thousand to the
very sky? What were those towers, spires and turrets,
soaring above the clouds, the brilliant sunlight gilding
their countless feathers of steam and decking their
phantom minarets with myriad candles? What could
it mean? Had he landed on Manhattan or was this
some island built by fairies or by elves? Nay, this
place was far too fair for that, and must be then the
work of witchcraft and the devil. Or was it, after all,
the same old place that he had known, but grown and
glorified beyond belief? And when he finally realized
this to be the case. Father Knickerbocker without
doubt would be wondrous proud of his great-grandsons
and of the New York of to-day.

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KMa^k- - >^.,

X

THE PIER

LIKE twin Colossi, silent amid the hum of cities
and the whistling of a thousand boats, the grim
piers of Brooklyn Bridge stand sentry at the river's
gate.

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XI
THE MUNICIPAL BUILDING

ASTRIDE of Chamber Street at Park Row stands
the Municipal Building. Under its roof are
half a hundred commissions, departments, boards
and bureaux that regulate such petty affairs as the
highways, parks, water supply, bridges, taxes and
fire-fighting for upwards of six millions of people. A
gigantic task, and accomplished in a building well
worthy of its responsibility.

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XII
NEW YORK FROM FULTON FERRY

WATCHING MANHATTAN as the boat comes near
its shore, one seems to come under the spell of its
incalculable weight, its stupendous mass of iron, brick and
stone. It is oppressive, ominous. One feels the past, the
present and the future; and the tremendous forces which
must have worked together to produce this titanic off-
spring, to have spawned this mountain of precipices. One
feels the hidden activity, the pitiless struggle going on be-
neath; yet a few puffs of smoke are all that betray the
smouldering of the mighty fires. One lets one's mind sink
into the vast depths between, to see little humanity run-
ning here and there like ants amid the tangle of wires,
tunnels and pipes. Little humanity that built it all.

In the past, church spires rose majestic above the sur-
rounding city. Now they are lost. The buildings of com-
merce, creeping high and higher, have struggled upward,
cUmbing upon one another's backs, and mounting each on
the shoulder of each, in their ceaseless effort to be the
tallest among their fellows. And just as it is among men
and the rulers of men, as surely as one has gained the su-
premacy, has come another to surpass him, swinging up-
ward yet another fifty, one hundred, or two hundred feet,
and from their thousand brazen throats has boomed again
the cry, "Long Hve the king!"

Eight hundred feet towers the monarch of to-day. He
is called "Woolworth," and twelve thousand men live
daily in his strength. His head is of gold but his feet are
of clay, and who will be king to-morrow ?

And wondering, one looks up and up, above the mightiest
of these kings, and yet above the very summit of his crown,
and there one sees — the sunset.

tlWiWIJ^J^'^-

XIII
THE METROPOLITAN TOWER

THE Home Office of the Metropolitan Life In-
surance Co. is in the *' MetropoUtan Life Build-
ing." It covers the whole block between Madison and
Fourth Avenues and from Twenty-third to Twenty-
fourth streets: some twenty-five acres. Its forty-
odd-story tower dominates the whole of Madison
Square and dwarfs its neighbors of a meagre twenty
stories. Above the level of their roofs the face of a
giant clock covers three stories of its front and stares
unwinking at the thousands in the park. To old
women and to newsboys, to strong men and to wasters,
to honest and to sick, to those who read the columns
under "Help Wanted — Male," and to those who
have gone far beyond doing so, to the restless and the
lonely among the crowds, waiting for that thing
to *'turn up" that never, never does; to all these
this ponderous clock points the passing of the minutes,
hours, days, — of life itself: this clock, relentless as
the sun, upon the Life Insurance tower.

C403

XIV
THE CATHEDRAL ON THE AVENUE

SAINT PATRICK'S CATHEDRAL on Fifth
Avenue is the largest and finest Catholic church
in the city. It is a magnificent structure, taking
up the whole block between Fiftieth and Fifty-first
streets and Madison Avenue. It fronts, of course,
on Fifth Avenue, from where perhaps it can best be
seen. One longs to see it standing in a more open
space and to see its beauties as a whole from
further off as one now sees its spires, which are re-
markable from nearby but glorious from a greater
distance.

1:40

XV

QUEENSBORO BRIDGE

QUEENSBORO BRIDGE is the most northerly
of Manhattan's four East River bridges. Its
mile and a half of mighty steel structure reaches from
Second Avenue and Fifty-ninth Street well into Queens
County, Long Island. Far below it in the middle of
the river is Blackwells Island, on the south end of which
is one of the city hospitals. The rest of this island is
the cheerless home of an ever-changing group of
those unfortunates, who through some unkind trick
of fate have slipped, or have seemed to slip, into that
uncharted realm vaguely called "Without the Law."

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XVI
FIFTH AVENUE AT FIFTY-NINTH STREET

WHETHER under the regime of private or of
business houses the region of Fifth Avenue
at Fifty-ninth Street has been for a long time the
luxury-centre of New York. On this enchanted soil
is the well-known Vanderbilt home, one of the few
dwellings that still resist the tide of business uptown
to this point. Southward for miles "The Avenue"
used to be the smartest residential street in the city.
It is now the home of Rembrandts, pearls, sables. Rolls
Royces beyond number, first editions, tear bottles,
jades, and silken ankles. It is more dangerous to
cross than the Continental Divide. It separates East
from West in the city.

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XVII
HELL GATE BRIDGE

HELL GATE BRIDGE derives its name from the
treacherous section of the East River which it
crosses. It is a most important part in a wonderful
piece of railroad engineering. At New Rochelle
tracks lead from the old New York, New Haven and
Hartford lines to Port Morris, from here over Hell
Gate Bridge, through the Borough of Queens and
Long Island City, under the East River and half of
Manhattan, to come to the surface at the Pennsylvania
Station. Hell Gate Bridge runs from above Port
Morris over Bronx Kills and Randall's Island, across
Little Hell Gate and Ward's Island, and last, with its
huge span, over Hell Gate to Astoria in Queens. It
is six miles long. If laid over Manhattan it would
reach from Wanamaker's store at Eighth Street, to
One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street. It is a re-
markable link in the great chain between the two
railroads. It obviates breaking bulk at New York,
and connects Southern New England with **all points
west.'*

US]

XVIII
THE SOLDIERS AND SAILORS MONUMENT

IT is not what some one may say, but what the
Nation feels, that tells the story of the Soldiers
and Sailors Monument.

Cso]

XIX

THE CATHEDRAL ON THE HEIGHTS

THE EPISCOPAL CATHEDRAL of Saint John
the Divine is the chief church of the diocese of
New York. It stands on Morningside Heights, a
magnificent site, from which it dominates all the sur-
rounding city. Its enormous dome suggests that of
Saint Peter's and on the very pinnacle of the apse the
angel Gabriel faces east, sounding the trumpet in an
endless note of triumph.

Viewing this structure, although as yet unfinished,
one tries, almost in vain, to realize that it is to be still
larger and more wonderful when fully completed, and
when time has mellowed its stately stones and has
hung about its walls the indescribable dignity of age.

Is^l

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XX

THE VIADUCT

THE HUDSON and the Palisades combine in
making "Riverside" one of the most naturally
beautiful driveways in the world. Yet it owes much
also to the workers of magic in steel. Northward
from Grant's Tomb and Claremont for half a mile
or more it is upheld by giant arches of their making.
Across a whole valley, this broad roadbed all glistening
in the sun and streaked by the gay lines of endless
pleasure traffic, rolls grandly on, supported by the
silent strength of that great land bridge, the Viaduct.

C543

XXI
GRANT'S TOMB

THE tomb of Ulysses S. Grant at One Hundred
and Twenty-second Street and Riverside Drive
is one of New York's best known landmarks. A
structure of impressive grandeur and large historic
interest, it encourages the thousands of New Yorkers
that pass it daily to look forward to the time when
their city will be ennobled by a fitting memorial of the
heroic officers and men of the great world war.

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XXII

THE BATTLESHIP ••OKLAHO^U•• OX THE

HUDSOX

IT often seems more dilBcult to recognize beaur^* in
things \\iLh which we are famihar than in those
which are more foreign to us. The Hudson is, beyond
question, as splendid a river as any of which European
cities can boast, yet ^^sito^s to Xew York often seem
to appreciate it more than do the Xew Yorkers them-
selves. \\Tiether t\\ink]ing under m>-riad lights on a
summer night, or storm lashed in January-, the Hudson
sweeps the whole west shore of Manhattan in lasting
yet ever changing grandeur. Imagine yourself in an
unknown, distant cir^*. and watch the sun so eoreeouslv
do\\Ti behind the Palisades, while on the water its long
reflection is ploughed to pieces by the river craft.

CsSD

XXIII
HIGH BRIDGE

BOLDLY across the Harlem River at One Hundred
and Seventy-fourth Street stands High Bridge.
It differs remarkably from other New York bridges in
that it is built entirely of masonry. No steel con-
struction, no suspension cable, no huge rolling lift
or counter-poise relate it to the present dynasty of
bridges. One hundred and thirty-five feet of solid
stone it rises gray and enduring amid the surround-
ing green. Surely it belongs to the Old World and
to another time, and looking through its arches one
half expects to see the towers and battlements of some
old chateau, clear cut against the sky. One may even
fancy, — but here a blunt-nosed tug rams puffing up
against the tide, smoke belching from its stumpy
funnel, the water churned to froth; and one has lost
the wonders of the past in wonders of to-day.

ceo]

XXIV
WASHINGTON BRIDGE

WASHINGTON BRIDGE is one of the many
arteries that join the Borough of the Bronx
with Manhattan, and in thus connecting its enormous
area and population with the rest of the metropoHs,
is a material factor in making New York the fore-
most city of the country.

1:623

XXV
THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION

THE GRAND CENTRAL is one of the finest
railroad stations in the country. Fronting on
Forty-second it extends to Forty-fifth Street and
from Vanderbilt Avenue to Lexington. The group of
figures forming the clock cartouche above its main
facade is a piece of masterly sculpture. Its main hall
is gigantic. The system with which its hundreds of
trains arrive and depart is little less than magical.
Yet greater far than these is the story of the crowds
that come to New York on these trains, and the mass
of hopes and aspirations that they bring to the city
through this great gate. And of all who come buoyant,
confident and convinced that they will wrest success
from this thronging mart of millions, — how few
achieve! And yet, though comparatively few, these
victors form so vast an army that they many times
outnumber the successful sons of the city, and are
a mighty force in the making of New York, the
Metropolis of the Nation.

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

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